


Per aspera ad astra - Through Hardships to the Stars

by wicked3659



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Halloween, M/M, Nightmares, Pre-Earth Transformers, Psychological Horror, Psychosis, Spooky, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 23:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8421529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked3659/pseuds/wicked3659
Summary: Jazz is concerned that Prowl is succumbing to the effects of prolonged space travel. However, don't believe everything you see..."In the end there is only darkness. Sometimes we find others in that darkness, and sometimes we lose them there again." - Stephen King





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vejiraziel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vejiraziel/gifts).



> Written for Halloween for no reason other than spooky bunnies. I'm not great at doing scary but I hope this gets some spines tingling. 
> 
> Vejiraziel - I know it isn't exactly what you wanted for your birthday but this is the direction it went... I hope at the very least it is entertaining.

Space was cold and dark. If it weren't for his internal chronometer, he would have lost track of the cycles. He had been in space before but never for so long and never so far away from home. They had left their galaxy behind quite some time ago and now were flying through uncharted space. Stars, although they lay sprinkled throughout their journey, were few and far between. He was used to isolation but even he was beginning to feel the effects of space travel, seemingly without end.

  
"You're staring again," Jazz's voice lilted behind him.

  
Sensor panels flicked at the words and Prowl's optics dimmed as he felt Jazz approach.

  
"Space isn't going to change no matter how long you stare at it," the other black and white added gently, coming to stand beside Prowl.

  
"Sometimes, I am certain I catch a glimpse of something. Light, a planet, even a black hole would be welcome at this point," the Praxian replied softly.

  
Jazz nodded and placed a hand on his arm. "You'll drive yourself insane with thoughts like that. You heard what Ratch' said, it's better to distract yourself, keep busy."

  
"How am I supposed to do that, Jazz?" Prowl canted his helm at Jazz. "I am a tactician, we lost the Decepticons almost a vorn ago, there are no battles to wage out here."

  
"Still have skills that can be useful. Trust me, everyone is feeling it and you being second means they look to you, you're their strength, you keep going as if everything is and will be fine," he leaned closer, his gaze earnest. "They can't see you fall apart... will be the beginning of the end."

  
Prowl sighed and his gaze returned to the viewer. "It is unfair to put that responsibility on me."

  
Jazz shrugged. "Responsibility is your driving force. It might be unfair but you'll treat it like a duty and that will keep you from breaking out here."

  
Prowl looked at his longtime friend and now frequent lover with bright optics and said nothing. Sometimes, Jazz knew him too well.

  
"I have a new game we can play," Jazz mentioned after a short while of silence.

  
Prowl raised an optic ridge. "If it's anything like the last one, then consider me out."

  
Jazz flashed Prowl a grin and tugged his arm, leading him away from the viewer. "Nah, it's something I made with Perceptor's help. It's going to help us all. Wanted to test it with you."

  
"I am certainly going to need more information than that," Prowl countered, not resisting when Jazz led him through the corridors of the Ark.

  
Jazz laughed. "What, don't trust me, mech?" his visor glinted as he glanced back at Prowl.

  
Venting a sigh, Prowl let his sensor panels twitch with curious, yet apprehensive anticipation. "Why do I feel like I'm putting my life in your hands?"

  
"Probably because you are?" Jazz offered with a cheshire cat smile, that shared none of his secrets. "I think you're going to like it. Trust me."

  
****

  
Prowl settled into the seat somewhat apprehensive. Jazz leaned over him and grinned, “Stop worrying, I'll be right beside you, Perceptor and Teletraan have controls in place. Trust me this is safer than Red’s office.”

  
Lying back, Prowl let Perceptor put the visor over his face and his optics struggled to adjust to the pitch blackness. “Jazz… I'm not sure it's working, I--” he cut himself off as his vision returned and he found himself looking at the lab. Turning he frowned at Jazz's grin. “What happened?”

  
Jazz hopped off his berth. “The game started,” he offered his hand to Prowl. “Come on let’s go see what it's thought up for us.”

  
Uncertain, Prowl accepted the hand anyway. “It? What is it?”

  
“It’s an artificial intelligence that Percy created. It analyses what we need and our skills and creates a game that will challenge and entertain us,” Jazz explained. “I've tested it once this is the first multiplayer test,” he smiled at Prowl.

  
“So we're in the game right now?”

  
“Exactly,” Jazz whooped when the ship suddenly rocked. “Looks like the fun is about to start.”

  
The ship rocked violently again, sending both mechs to the floor as they sprinted to the command deck. Scrambling up, Prowl turned sharply as a long low groan reverberated down the corridor. “What was that?”

  
“A bad guy?” Jazz tugged on Prowl and began to run. “Trust me you don't want to wait around, we need to find weapons.”

  
Prowl didn't resist and ran with Jazz to the weapons locker. The moan chased after them, followed by a couple of thuds and a scraping of metal. It didn't sound like anything Prowl had encountered before. It was unnerving.

  
They waited on either side of the storage hold as the thuds and the scraping drew closer. His battle computer activated as he processed various scenarios. Waiting until the last possible second, he stepped out and fired his rifle at point blank range into the creature’s chest.

  
Jazz whistled as he stepped out. “I waited until it passed last time but I guess this works too,” he threw another grin at Prowl and primed his weapon.

  
“Jazz,” Prowl frowned and crouched down beside the fallen creature. “This is Gears,” he uttered, “And he looks like he's infected with some sort of cosmic rust like parasite. It's corroding his plating.”

  
“Nasty,” Jazz pulled a face. “We should get to the command deck then, there'll definitely be more where he came from.”

  
Prowl followed Jazz, his concern evident on his face. “The AI is using individuals we know, making us kill them.”

  
“It's just a game though, Prowl. The AI can only pull from our own processors. Nothing new is created. You needed something to occupy you, keep you challenged. Enjoy it.”

  
Prowl didn't respond as they entered the command deck. It, and Jazz’s casual nature toward it, was unsettling and yet a large part of him was already relishing the chance to solve the mystery and save the ship.

  
“It's empty,” Jazz held his weapon higher. “Looks like there was an attack.”

  
“We should find, Ratchet. Take Gears to him. He can analyse the rust on his plating,” Prowl suggested. “There's nothing we can do here.”

  
“We should find Prime,” Jazz countered.

  
“You said you'd tested this game before?”

  
“Yeah but it's different for everybody,” Jazz canted his helm at Prowl.

  
“I'm guessing similar enough that you tried to find Prime, yes?”

  
Jazz nodded.

  
“And what happened?”

  
Pulling a face, Jazz readjusted his grip on his rifle. “I got cornered and ended the game,” he pursed his lip components. “Alright, we do it your way,” he acquiesced.

  
Prowl smirked a little and took the lead out of the command deck. As soon as they stepped foot into the corridor though, they were plunged into darkness and the steady, constant thrum of the engines let out a death rattle before falling silent. Prowl's bright optics met the visor glowing in the darkness. “Did this happen before?”

  
Jazz shook his helm. “This is all you, mech, what do you suggest?”

  
Venting a sigh, Prowl frowned at the options his battle computer fed him. “We need to split up. One grab Gears, one get the engine back online before the energon in our bodies freezes.”

  
Jazz placed a hand on Prowl's shoulder, “I'll go to the engine, I've got experience rigging one, you get Gears and get to medbay, I'll meet you there. Remember, Prowl, this is just a game, you want out at any point, touch any wall surface and use the commands; save and exit.”

  
Prowl gave him a curt nod. “Keep communications open, be careful.”

  
Jazz chuckled as he moved off into the darkness, “You know me.”

  
Readying himself, Prowl retraced their steps back to where they'd left Gears. After a while though, Prowl became confused and stopped. They hadn't left Gears that far away had they? Looking back, unable to see through the darkness, Prowl frowned. Had he passed him in the dark? Deciding to go back, Prowl eventually found himself back at the command deck entrance. //Jazz, Gears has gone.// he resisted the urge to growl in frustration and got the distinct impression he was being watched.

  
//What do you mean gone?//

  
//Gone. Vanished. I'm going to head to you.//

  
//Alright, mech… I've not seen anybody down here...wait… I heard something...//

  
At his friend’s hesitation, Prowl frowned and broke into a sprint, turning on his headlights to help him navigate, despite the light revealing his presence to anyone or anything watching. //Jazz? Jazz!?//

  
//….ppnnsssstfff...prowl staypssstt… glitching mess… frag...ppssttbbtt...exit. Exit fraggit! No!....ssshtttttt...//

  
Prowl stopped in his tracks at Jazz's holler. //Jazz! Jazz this is no longer entertaining, answer me! Jazz?!// his comm channel was merely static and Prowl felt his sensor net prickle along his doorwings as he heard a distinct thud thud scraaaape, close behind him. His doorwings twitched and Prowl could have sworn he felt something brush over the edge of one as he broke into a sprint without looking back.

  
****

  
Prowl had the entire schematic of the ship in his processor and could find his way around blind. That did not however, make running through the Ark in pitch black any less unnerving. Being chased by unknown groaning shadows didn't help either. Prowl hadn't stopped to analyse or investigate any of his would be assailants. Their noises alone had been enough to keep him sprinting, drive him to a panic. His battle computer was working frantically ahead of him, feeding him scenarios that did not help his emotional state. He wasn't thinking nor behaving logically, he needed to find a place to stop and gather his thoughts.

  
Turning a corner, Prowl suddenly came face to face with Trailbreaker. Or what had been Trailbreaker. The larger mech lunged for Prowl and the Praxian shoved him away as he turned sharply and scrambled away from him. Prowl couldn't prevent a cry of alarm escaping him as a hand grabbed his foot and tugged him back firmly, sending him to the floor. Kicking out, his foot crunched against a helm and Prowl wasted no time when the firm grip released him. On his feet he ran as fast as he could away from the snarling, howling former mech.

  
Disorientated, Prowl had lost track of where he was in the Ark. His one working headlight - the other having smashed on the floor - shone onto a door and Prowl immediately overrode the lock code and slipped inside. He quickly scanned for any signs of life and upon finding none, slowly pressed his back against the wall and sank wearily to the floor. A game Jazz had said. Entertaining he'd reassured. “I'm going to redefine his idea of fun when I get hold of him,” Prowl muttered to himself. Yet, he still didn't choose the exit option. He was admittedly too intrigued by the mystery and too exhilarated to want to quit yet. This was the most he'd used his battle computer since they'd left Cybertron and fear aside, he was relishing the challenge.

  
****

  
Prowl hadn’t stayed down for long. Undoubtedly the creatures that had taken over the crew and invaded the ship could track spark signatures. He was erring on the side of caution though and using the maintenance vents. Crawling through the small spaces was difficult and every so often, Prowl would have sworn he picked up movement in the vents that crossed his. Emergency generators had kicked in throughout the Ark and Teletraan’s voice spoke at regular intervals, warning whoever was listening of the dropping temperature and poisonous fumes building from the inert engine.

  
Convincing himself for what felt like the millionth time that he hadn’t seen nor heard something skittering through the vent behind him, Prowl urged himself forward. He had to get to the engine room, fix the engine or it wouldn’t matter if those creatures caught him. He would be dead anyway, figuratively. After all it was only a game.

  
The first time his comm. spluttered, Prowl nearly shot through the vent. He was so tense. The words he heard didn't really sound like words at all. There was whispering, chattering but the screeching and the eerie laughter were what sent chills rippling down his back struts.

  
Mentally stealing himself to keep pressing forward, he ignored the faint trembling of his hands. He'd fought a war for vorns he'd lived through worse than this. It was just a game. Turning off his comm, despite it being his only link to Jazz, Prowl continued crawling. The short bursts of static through Teletraan gave him hope that Jazz was trying to contact him until he heard it.

  
“Proooowl….”

  
Prowl froze, optics bright.

  
“Ohhhh Prowl….”

  
The voice sing-songed.

  
“ppssftt...not alone… we’re coming....ppssttbbt.”

  
His spark spinning in his chest, Prowl willed himself to move but his body refused to respond.

  
“Run!”

  
The voice had sounded closer than it should have been and suddenly there was skittering and scraping all around him. Prowl moved as fast as he could to the nearest exit, he felt something grabbing at him, scraping over his plating. He yelped when he felt a sharp pain in his leg and instead of crawling he shot through the vent and propelled himself through the gap, realising too late he was falling into the rec room.

  
It was a mass of moving limbs and snarls as he fought his way to the nearest wall. He cried out as a doorwing was wrenched, pulling him backwards. That pain felt real enough. Shifting through legs of mechs he'd once called comrade, he slapped his hand against the wall and screamed ‘exit’ before he was dragged away into the teeming crowd of hands and mouths.

  
****

  
“No! NOO!” Prowl sat up with a start, grabbing Jazz who was staring at him worriedly.

  
“You're alright, it's just a game, Prowl,” Jazz uttered as the Praxian looked ready to flee or attack.

  
“What… Jazz… this is not what I'd describe as fun!” he whispered, still coming down from his panic.

  
Jazz nodded apologetically as Perceptor peered around him. “We failed to compensate for your advanced battle computer, it extrapolated a scenario much more intense and frightening than we intended.”

  
Prowl frowned. “But Jazz you were in there with me…”

  
“Nah, mech, I had just laid down when your readings started going haywire. You started without me,”

  
“But…” Prowl was confused. Jazz had spoken to him like it was a game. “Did my processor extrapolate from our conversation to create you?”

  
“Must have. How far did you get?”

  
“I was trying to reach the engine room. Something had taken over the crew it was chasing me, it had already gotten you,” Prowl explained.   
“Huh…” Jazz grunted, sharing a glance with Perceptor.

  
Prowl looked between them. “What is it?”

  
Perceptor fingered a scanner nervously. “We didn't program um… enemies… it was supposed to be a puzzle type game,” he pursed his lip components.

  
Scowling Prowl pushed himself out of the chair. “Clearly my battle computer had other ideas for my entertainment.”

  
Jazz squeezed Prowl's arm. “We’ll iron out the kinks. C’mon, you look like you need energon.”

  
Prowl nodded mutely and let Jazz lead him from the lab. He still felt unsettled and frowned as he looked at their joined hands. Something still felt off. Like he was forgetting something important. Being in space so long was playing tricks on his processor and he shook his helm.

  
“You alright, Prowler?” Jazz glanced back at him.

  
“Yes,” he answered with a small smile. “I'm alright, just glad to be back in the real world, with the real you.”

  
Jazz laughed. “There ain't no me like the real me,” he stopped when he found Prowl staring at him with bright optics. “Prowl…?”

  
“That laugh… it was you…”

  
“Well it's my laugh, you know my laugh…” Jazz drew closer, concern on his face once more. “You told me you loved my laugh…”

  
“I did…? That's so personal… I don't… remember...”

  
Jazz held onto Prowl's hand tightly as the mech tried to pull away. “Because things have gotten personal lately… you know… I show up to your room and end up staying the night, practically every night… in your berth… don't you remember?”

  
Prowl didn't remember but as he thought about it snippets of memories came flitting back to him. “I think I do… but… maybe the game has confused my processor more than you anticipated.”

  
Jazz nodded and pressed close to Prowl wrapping him in a tight, almost possessive embrace. “Well after you told me you wanted to be together as more than just something casual… heh there was no way I was letting you go now.”

  
Tentatively, uncertain, Prowl curled his free arm around Jazz. It was true he harboured feelings for the mech, but it wouldn't be wise to start anything so far in deep space, in case something happened to one of them. In case one of them did succumb to the isolation. Hadn't they talked about it? Vague memories of Jazz's disappointed face came to mind and again that laughter rang through his processor, mingled with feelings of hopeless confusion and an inexplicable feeling of impending doom. “Perhaps I should see Ratchet?”

  
Jazz snickered. “Perhaps, but what good will that do?”

  
Canting his helm at Jazz in confusion, Prowl pulled a face. “He can give advice, he can help…”

  
“Nothing to help,” Jazz murmured his gaze earnest, intense. “C’mon, let's just go back to yours and I can remind you of how good we are together,” Jazz smiled at him and tugged on his hand.

  
Prowl followed, not sure what else to do and not wanting to hurt Jazz's feelings. He made a mental note to speak with Ratchet as they reached his quarters and Jazz pulled him inside. “How did you know my code?” he asked in surprise.

  
Jazz laughed that laugh as he turned around. “Mine now.”

  
Prowl staggered back as the ship suddenly lurched. He looked to where Jazz's visor should be and saw only two black holes. “Primus!” he gasped.

  
Despite the rocking ship, Jazz lunged for Prowl and the Praxian use his imbalance to his advantage.

  
He didn't want to hurt Jazz. Any incarnation of him. He must still be inside the game! Sprinting out of his quarters, he ran to where he knew there would be help. Ratchet would know what to do. In vain he tried pressing his hand against the wall and shouting exit but nothing happened. This was no game.

  
“Coming for you…” Jazz sing-songed behind him.

  
A voice far too close to him hissed in his audio. “Run!” Prowl whirled around but there was nobody there. He took the advice to spark however, and ran as the ship began to tip towards a blue-green planet he could see through the windows. They were going to crash. When had they reached this planet? Was this even really happening? Forgetting his own terror, Prowl changed direction to the command centre. Just what the frag was going on?

  
Skidding into the command centre, Prowl called out to his Prime as the planet loomed on the viewscreen. Nobody was moving they were all just standing there staring. Prowl's spark felt like it was being squeezed when Optimus turned slowly and stared at him without any optics, followed by every mech on the bridge. Shaking his helm in disbelief, Prowl backed up only to feel Jazz brushing his hands over his doorwings.

  
“One of us now… mine”

  
Prowl was only vaguely aware of his screams as they grabbed him and the Ark plummeted into the planet, plunging him into the relief of a familiar darkness once more.

  
****

  
Optimus gazed sadly upon his friend as he sagged against the berth and fell quiet. “What's the prognosis, Ratchet?”

  
The medic stepped out of the makeshift quarantine ward and vented a weary sigh. “He has moments of lucidity. His battle computer I've had to shut down completely, it was pulling him deeper into whatever reality his processor created.”

  
Optimus nodded and turned back to the medbay where a number of mechs were lying on berths. “Did he…?”

  
Ratchet shook his helm. “He didn't kill anyone. Gears was close but he's going to be fine. It's as though part of him is still trying to reach out and maintain control. His attacks are becoming more frequent, any one of them could be the one that takes him from us completely.”

  
Optimus’ optics dimmed. “And Jazz?”

  
Ratchet frowned. “He's strangely lucid despite being the first to be afflicted. It's not surprising he got to Prowl first. Didn’t think he would try to spark bond though. Crazy apparently needs company. He did a lot of damage when he hacked him. That's why Prowl's stuck, he won't stay under long enough for me to try and fix some of it. He can't distinguish reality from imaginary, he can probably still feel Jazz in his spark.”

  
The Prime felt the weight of grief and guilt that his decision had brought them here. He nodded. “Can you help them?”

  
Ratchet was grim. “If we were on Cybertron, yes but we've been in space for so long, fifteen vorns and counting, don't be surprised if others start coming down with space psychosis too. It's only a matter of time now.”

  
They both turned back to find Prowl sat up and staring at them. Well in their direction. At the height of his psychotic break, Jazz had clawed out Prowl's optics to stop him from escaping him and given that he wouldn't stay sedated for very long due to defensive protocols in his battle computer resisting their attempts to treat him, Ratchet had not been able to replace them.

  
“I pray to Primus that this journey ends soon. It has already cost us too much,” Optimus rumbled, unable to look away from Prowl's optic-less face that seemed to stare straight into his spark.

  
****

 


End file.
